


The Burden of Survival

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: A Risen helps, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Headcanon, I'm Sorry, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There were times that Inigo would be overcome by a dark temptation, when a little voice would whisper to him that it would be much better if he died then and there rather than burden the army with his presence further. This little voice would give him tips on just what to do in order to fail, just how to permanently escape that awful dance of death. The first few years found him ignoring the voice, pretending he did not have that awful desire to end it all. However, there came a day that the voice won against his fading will. He gave in and allowed himself to be cut down. Perhaps he only regretted it afterwards because he survived.





	The Burden of Survival

The battlefield had music of its own, a beat and a tone unique to the clashing of weapons and screams of falling soldiers. Advance, retreat, advance, retreat, another soldier falls, advance, retreat. The war cries of soldiers, the whinnies of pegasi, the screams of the fallen, the thundering footsteps of the relentless Risen. These were the instruments for the song Inigo had known since he was an infant. He was born in a dirty cottage while soldiers tore Risen down outside. The first music he ever heard was battle. Perhaps that's why he was so used to it, despite hating it.

Once the song of battle drew him in completely, Inigo could detach himself from the situation. He could stab, parry and counter wit the grace of a dancer performing a much-loved routine without thought or frustration. He barely had to think as he cut down his foes, letting his feet and sword carry away his troubles. There were times, however, getting caught up in the dance was simply not enough. A little voice would whisper to him just what to do in order to fail, just how to permanently escape this dance of death. For years, he ignored the voice that dragged him to dark and deadly places. However, there came a day that finally being free of this world was far more preferable to seeing another bloodsoaked day. To ignore the call of the voice then had seemed nearly impossible. 

That day was a particularly tough one. Inigo was fighting a hoard of Risen, nearly a hundred of them that came rushing down the hill towards him with murderous glee- if Risen could have even felt glee, that is. Tharja, a woman many feared but for some reason had been quite kind to him, was fighting by his side along with a few others he did not know that well. If they tried their hardest, they could all escape alive. But, as the silver-haired youth took down another Risen with an almost bored detachment, the effort seemed unnecessary. If he fell then, no one else would have to worry about protecting him.  They could just run and get out of there, faster than if he were with them. Finally, he made the choice. Just as the Risen lifted its weapon and swung it down, he let down his guard. This would be the end of him.

What Inigo did not expect was the dark form of an older woman appearing before him as the weapon came down. He did not expect the spear to pierce the woman's flesh, covering the wielder and Inigo himself in ruby blood. He did not expect the agonized scream that ripped from the woman's throat as she fell to the ground. He did not expect her to rise up, blood gushing from her shoulder as she desperately tried to cast through the pain. 

The shock overtook him with a ave of darkness. Before he could even register what was happening. Inigo was passed out on the valley floor.


End file.
